


I've Got You, Babe

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Long Distance Pining, M/M, PWP, Post-Canon, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kent's waited six weeks for this, and he's not about to wait a second longer than he has to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My gf has been gone out of the country for almost two months so trust me Kent, I feel you. (basically just some self-indulgent Patater to make me feel better)

(Patater- nsfw)

It’s been six weeks. Six weeks going on eternity, and half of it was spent with Alexei away from any proper source of internet which meant no skyping, and the phone calls were short be cause the time difference was obscene between Vegas and Vladivostok. Plus Kent was working with the little Aces camp and when Alexei got back into the states he had to go right into an advertising campaign his agent had signed him on to.

Kent is crawling out of his skin by the time the plane lands. There were moments he didn’t miss the east coast at all, and moments when the east coast was only tolerable in New York where he knew the places and the people and which bodega still stocked razzles and what curry food truck had the best garlic naan.

But right now Providence was fucking everything because it means that a twenty minute taxi to Alexei’s building is all that stands in the way of giant hands and soft kisses and--if he is very lucky--having his jet lag fucked straight out of him.

He wants to strangle the taxi driver by the time they arrive. And on some level where he left logic behind, he knows the driver isn’t responsible for the nine red lights or the three-car pile-up. But he has to put the blame somewhere.  
He still tips more than usual because Kent always tips more than usual, and he’s clambering out of the yellow car with his bag hiked on his shoulder.

Alexei knows he’s here--tried to pick him up at the airport, but Kent knows the moment he sees his boyfriend he’s not going to be able to keep his hands off him--and god the second he’s in touching range he plans to literally rip Alexei’s shirt off. Or at least rip a few buttons, and he wants to do it without the risk of being arrested for public indecency. 

He’s in the building with the key he’s had for over a year. He takes the lift up, and on the first floor a man gets in who recognises him, making him groan because he starts talking stats and the new line-ups, and “Do you know any of the new rookies, how do you feel about them?”

Kent wants to punch the guy in the mouth, and almost screams when the guy gets out on the fifth floor with him. 

“Do you think I could get an autograph?”

Kent can see the fucking door to Alexei’s place and never in his life has he ever been this impolite but fuck if he doesn’t get a mouth on his dick in like forty-eight seconds he’s going to implode and take the world with him. “Look I’m in a rush. I’m really sorry, but I’m going to be here another two weeks so catch me later on?”

The guy looks disappointed and Kent knows he’s in for some shitty twitter press but whatever because he’s finally at the door and he’s turning the knob and fucking bless that giant Russian bastard because it’s not only unlocked but Alexei’s waiting for him right on the other side.  
He’s crowded against the door and does’t fucking care at all about the knob digging into his spine because Alexei’s giant hands are curving round his arse and hitching him up against the solid wood.

“Fuck me.”

“I’m plan to, right after kiss,” Alexei says, and his accent is fucking absurd at this point because he probably hasn’t spoken much English in weeks and god, it’s so hot.

“Fuck, fuck,” is all Kent can really gasp because Alexei’s mouth is on his neck now and his fingers are kneading against his ass cheeks and he’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s going to bust through the zip on his jeans.

Jeans. What the fuck was he thinking when he picked jeans.

“No give,” he mutters aloud.

Alexei responds with something in Russian that Kent things means, “What?” but it doesn’t matter and clearly he doesn’t expect an answer because he’s dragging Kent back to the bedroom now. He hasn’t put him down either which is probably the greatest goddamn thing ever and Kent would kill to have this.  
Literally.

Alexei’s bedroom is cool and dark. The bed is unmade as usual, and Kent’s flung against the soft duvet. He lays there, catching his breath, knowing Alexei will do all the work and he does.  
“Ten points to Hufflepuff,” he says, because Alexei got sorted on Falconers TV--along with Jack--Slytherin, who knew, and Thirdy--Ravenclaw. But yeah he’s pretty sure Alexei just managed to channel some goddamn Hogwarts magic to get rid of his clothes because he’s bare-ass naked in no time, and writhing because Alexei has placed the flat of his palm against his hard dick and he’s kind of...massaging it.

The friction is just this side of not enough and he’s practically sobbing and staring at Alexei’s dark eyes. Alexei never fails to look almost surprised, as though he can’t believe he can’t seem to illicit a reaction like this from Kent even though it happens every time.  
Jesus.

He bucks up and begs, “Need you, so long, please, god, babe.” He’s babbling and almost crying because he’s become profoundly aware that he’s not just horny, but he’s felt a sort of emptiness knowing Alexei was on the other goddamn side of the world and there was no way for Kent to just reach out and touch him.

“I’m have you, shhh,” Alexei says. His movements don’t still, but they slow and he leans in to mouth at Kent’s neck. He positions himself a little better and there’s the slow drag of Alexei’s dick against his own, dry but the friction is so good and Kent’s eyes roll back in his head.

It’s been too long. He’s thought about this too much. He feels like a fucking virgin teen again because his head’s thrown back in what feels like seconds and he’s coming, god he’s coming.

Alexei strokes him through it and it’s really not long at all before he grunts and thrusts, and spills himself all over Kent’s stomach.

After a moment, Kent starts to come down. It’s heady and he’s a little shaky from the adrenaline and the raw want he’d been suffering through all day. He takes a moment of sheer comfort because Alexei reaches out to the side table where he keeps wet wipes and Kent realises that it’s only been six weeks and nothing changed.

He can look inside the wardrobe and still find all his shirts there. And three of his snapbacks are still on the wall. And the dumbass pug painting he got for Tater like three months ago because, “Babe it’s all sad and pouty like you.”

He comes back into his skin with a few trembling breaths, and by the time he’s coherent again, he’s been cleaned up and Alexei’s up on his elbow looking at him with an absurd fondness. He’s tracing slow, lazy circles round his belly button which is still a tiny bit sticky, but it means they get to shower later and he’s so down with that.  
“Miss me?”

Kent rolls his eyes. “Fishing for compliments?”

Alexei shoves the tip of his finger into Kent’s belly button because he knows Kent fucking hates that, and he smirks as Kent shoves him away.

“Uhg fine. Yes, you loser, I missed you so fucking much it hurt.”

“Never want you hurt, Paroshka. Miss me little, is okay.”

Kent reaches up and traces the tip of his finger just under Alexei’s lower lip. “God your English sucks right now.”

Alexei shrugs. “Your Russian suck all the time. Besides better thing to do with my mouth.”

“True,” Kent says, because he sure as shit can’t argue with that.

Alexei moves to demonstrate by giving him soft, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs. Kent’s soft dick gives a couple of weak throbs like it’s giving its own thanks to Alexei for the awesome orgasm.

“Also tell you, love you,” he whispers right up against Kent’s ear.

Kent wides his arms round the back of Alexei’s neck and holds him tight. “Never again, okay? Never that long. Fuck I...it was bad and I know I’m fucking pathetic but...”

A finger presses to Kent’s lips and Alexei’s shaking his head. “Not pathetic. Never. Understand me?”

Kent nods, then just whispers, “Alyoshenka,” because he doesn’t really have words in either English or Russian to really explain what Alexei is to him.

The message seems to get across, and Alexei pushes their noses together, rubbing them a little and he grins. Kent shoves at him and pretends that he hates it, but the light in his eyes lets Alexei know he’s a fucking liar, and Kent’s totally okay with it.

Because he’s here. And those six weeks are nothing but a distant memory. And the soft lips capturing his right now is fully telling--Alexei feels the same way.


End file.
